"Prince Victor!"

The man nodded acknowledgment of this greeting without detaching attention
from the girl. His voice, slightly tremulous with emotion, uttered her
name: "Sofia?"

She collected herself with an effort. "I am Sofia," she replied almost
mechanically.

"And I, your father ..."

Prince Victor lifted hands of singular delicacy, slender and tapering,
whose long fingers were dressed with many curious rings.

A reluctance she could not understand hindered Sofia from going gladly into
those arms. She had to make herself yield. They tightened hungrily about
her. She closed her eyes and experienced a slight, invincible shudder.

"My child!"

The lips that touched her forehead astonished her with their warmth.
Instinctively she had expected them to be cool, as frigid as the effect of
that strange mask of which they formed a part.

Then, held at arm's-length, she submitted to an inspection whose sum was
enunciated with a strange smile of gratification:

"You are beautiful."

In embarrassment she murmured: "I am glad you think so--father."